Cast in Flame (56 page)

“There is a reason,” he said, although she hadn’t spoken out loud, “that I am here as Dariandaros, and not as the Eternal Emperor. Understand, Private Neya, that as Emperor, I have responsibilities to the title itself. If I falter, if I am seen to lack confidence or direction, if I am seen as an object of scorn, and not a man worthy of both obedience and respect, the Empire stumbles.” His smile was thin. It was not warm. “And I admit a personal predilection to be treated with the respect due an Emperor.” He looked around the foyer. “This is to be Bellusdeo’s new home?”

Kaylin looked out the door. The Arkon had vanished.

Squawk.

She froze and slid a hand up to cover the small dragon’s mouth. “You didn’t even bring any of your guards.”

“I am aware that the Halls of Law and the Imperial Guard do not always see eye-to-eye; I am uncertain why, but I accept it as observable fact. I did not choose to bring Palace Guards. If I am to interact with you as a citizen, if I am to speak to you as if I were not Emperor, I cannot be seen
as
Emperor. So. I am here.”

* * *

She led him to the right of the foyer, where she hoped to whatever god listened to the unrepentantly irreligious that she would find some kind of—of sitting room. The rooms she shared with Bellusdeo in the Palace had one.

And Helen apparently had one, as well.

“I don’t—we don’t have cooks,” Kaylin said, feeling stupid. “And we haven’t
really
moved in yet. We kind of just agreed in principle and then—and then the ancestors arrived. So—our, umm, hospitality—”

One brow rose. It was an expression she might have seen on the Arkon’s face.

She entered the room; it was large, with slightly faded furniture—three chairs with high backs, one long couch with a slumped central pillow. There were blankets—Caitlin called them throws for some reason—draped across the top.

Kaylin chose one of the chairs. She didn’t particularly want to risk sitting beside the Emperor.

The Emperor, without apparent similar concern, also chose one of the chairs. He sat straight-backed and stiff, as if it was extremely unusual for his knees to do something trivial, like, say, bend.

Kaylin felt awkward and ridiculous.

Severn,
she whispered.
I don’t want to panic you, but. Umm. Never mind.

For some reason, this did not fill Severn with instant comfort.
What is it? What’s happened?

I’m at home.
She tested the word in her thoughts, and some of the stiffness in her shoulders eased. Yes, she’d faced ancestors and true words and the magic that still made her arms and legs ache—but
this
was where she was going to live for the rest of her natural life. She had found a home. She had found a home in which Dragon paranoia wouldn’t offend the landlord.

Or maybe it would, but at least the landlord wouldn’t turn her out.

Kaylin—who’s there?
Severn’s internal voice was much louder than it usually was. Possibly because he never used it.

The Emperor.

Silence.

He’s here alone.

Why?

I’m not sure.

“You are wondering why I have chosen to visit.”

She nodded.

“Am I so very terrifying, Lord Kaylin?”

“I’ve been repeatedly told that meeting you in person would be career-limiting, because I’d be dead.”

His smile was slender and cold, but it was there. “And perhaps that is true. You seem...wed...to the informal. In some circumstances it would be highly offensive. But you are in your own home, and I have chosen to visit, not as Emperor, but merely as another Lord of the Court.”

Kaylin wanted to laugh. If this was his idea of slumming, it was terrible. But probably to be expected from an Immortal. Mere Lord of the Court. The worst thing? He meant it.

“Why did you come? If it was to see Bellusdeo, she’s not speaking to anyone.”

“Not even you?”

“I’m part of anyone, so no.”

The Emperor rose. “This was an exceptionally poor idea. I would not be here at all if the Arkon had not insisted.”

“And why did he insist? What did he think you could do, here? You’ve pretty much insulted her. You’ve failed to acknowledge one of her few strengths. She helped
save
this city. She was critical at the end of the assault. She should be held in honor.”

The difference in their heights seemed immense as he stood. His eyes were a solid orange.

But she thought she understood what the Arkon meant him to hear, and emboldened by a new home, she drew breath and chose her words as carefully as she could. Well, her remaining words. “What do you know of Bellusdeo’s life before she returned to Elantra?”

He was silent.

“Do you know
anything
about her life?”

More silence. It was not, given the color of his eyes, a promising silence.

“Do you, in fact, know anything at all except the fact that she’s female?”

“I know that she was swept away in the tides of the breaking of the portals,” he replied. “She was young when the Arkon was, himself, much younger. She was one of nine, and they were connected. I do not understand how. I understand,” he added, “what the Arkon understands.”

Kaylin’s jaw dropped at the last bit. “You
do not
understand what the Arkon understands. The Arkon sees Bellusdeo. Does he worry about her? Yes. Of course he does. But he doesn’t worry about her because she’s the last female Dragon—he worries about her because he
knew
her. And she hasn’t changed as much as he has.”

“Mortals breed. It is what they
do.
You do not understand her importance—”

“I understand her importance to
herself.
I understand what she means to the Dragons—the very few who remain—but you’ve done well enough without her before. You can’t ask her to be something entirely different just
because
she’s a girl!”

“She is hardly a girl,” was his dry reply.

Kaylin was seated, but stood. “Let me take that back,” she said.

Kaylin,
Severn said,
be careful. He may have come in secret, but he
is
the Emperor.

“It’s entirely possible for you to ask her to be something she’s not. I’ve seen it often. In the place I grew up—”
Kaylin, stop
. “—Which you’re probably aware is the fief of Nightshade, what you’re offering Bellusdeo so she’ll pretend to be something she’s not—would have been a daydream. What you’re asking her to
do
for the life you’re offering would have been a daydream, too. Most of the women who couldn’t hide or make themselves incredibly unappealing ended up serving total strangers. They couldn’t escape, except by dying. Which they did.”

Kaylin.

She inhaled. Exhaled.

“People who have power often expect people who have none to make nice, just to survive. I made nice. I did worse.”

She could feel Severn give up. He didn’t stop worrying.

“What you’re asking isn’t nearly as bad. But the truth is: you’ve got power. She doesn’t.”

“I am not attempting—”

“You
are.
Do you think she doesn’t understand what’s required of her?”

She thought, for one long beat, he would breathe on her. The rising head of the familiar on her shoulder wasn’t much of a comfort, in that regard. But she’d started. She’d probably never have another chance to say what she thought needed to be said.

“What, then, does she require to be...happy? What does she demand? I have made clear—inasmuch as I can—that I am willing to give her anything at all that she desires.”

“She doesn’t want your fear.”

“And will you be naive enough to imagine that she wants my
love?
She is
not
mortal. She is
not
like
you.
”

Kaylin flinched. Angry Dragons were never going to be something she could face without fear. “I don’t know,” she said, forcing herself to choose her words more carefully, “what love means to Dragons. I only barely understand what hoards mean—”

“Do not imagine that you understand what a hoard means.”

“Fine. I don’t understand Dragon love and I don’t understand Dragon hoards. I don’t understand all of Bellusdeo or what she wants, either—because I haven’t known her for half my life. I’ll accept that I’m
mortal
and
naive.
But I
won’t
accept that the Arkon is. She will be—in future—the mother of her race. Until she has a daughter. Or several.

“She doesn’t
have
to be Empress. She doesn’t have to have children
with you.
If
you
care so much about the Dragon race and its continuation, you can offer to step aside.” She folded her arms.

“Do you think I have not offered her the choice?”

Given that she had, Kaylin was at a momentary loss for words. Some of her ire left her, then. “Did you?”

“Yes. Reluctantly, but yes. I understand what is at stake for all of us, even if she does not.”

“What makes you think she doesn’t?”

“What she did
tonight.
” His eyes deepened to an even, unfortunate red. His facial features rippled briefly. For one long, frozen moment she was afraid he was going to transform.

She held her ground. Mostly because she couldn’t, for a moment, move. “What she did
tonight,
” she said, through clenched teeth, “was
save
the city. Not more. Not less. She was Queen, once; she carried the weight of a country—and eventually what was left of a world—on her shoulders. She understands her own power, and she understands the responsibility that comes with it.”

“She is not responsible for
my
Empire.”

“If she’s going to live here, it can’t be just yours.”

His eyes were bleeding red at this point. But Kaylin’s would have been, too, had she been a Dragon.

“This city is my city,” she continued. “The people in it are my responsibility. I don’t
have
your physical power. On a purely personal level, you can do more good than I can. But that doesn’t mean the good
I
can do is pointless. That’s not the way the city works.

“You want Bellusdeo to be the mother of your race. I get that. But the Consort is the mother of
hers,
and she was in the street, fighting. The High Lord didn’t order her to cower in the High Halls—and do you know why?”

Silence.

“Because there are things that the Consort can do that
he can’t.
”

“You did not want the Consort in the streets, either,” he said, voice cold. Cold, in Dragons, was better than heat. He was guessing.

Kaylin accepted the guess as the truth that it was. “No. I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s the Consort. She’s the gateway to unimaginable power for the ancestors.” That was the truth, but not all of it. “And because I
like
her. I don’t have a lot of friends. I don’t know that she wouldn’t be insulted if I called her ‘friend.’ I didn’t want her to risk her life there. I thought I could do what needed to be done.”

He looked down on her, as if she had just proved his point. “You understand.”

Kaylin exhaled heavily. “I understand
why
you’re protective.”

“No, Lord Kaylin, you don’t.”

“Fine. I don’t and can’t. I’m not you. But here’s the thing: I thought I could do what needed to be done so the Consort wouldn’t have to risk her life—but
I was wrong.
Had it been up to me, she wouldn’t have left the High Halls. And we would have failed.

“There isn’t another Barrani Lord alive who means as much to the High Lord. Or to the Barrani race. But the High Lord accepted her assessment of the risk. He accepted the risk itself. I’m not saying it was easy for him—it was probably bloody hard. But he did it anyway. If you somehow think this means the Consort means less to him than Bellusdeo means to you, you are totally, dead wrong.”

This time, his silence was less terrifying.

“I volunteer at the Foundling Hall between emergencies. I wouldn’t let the foundlings out in the streets during an attack like this—unless it would save their lives. I would be terrified for them—and I’d be
right
to be terrified. They’re children. The Consort is not a foundling,” she continued, almost for her own sake at this point. “Yes, I was terrified. Yes, I wanted her somewhere safe. But—that’s about
me.
It’s not about what
she
needs. It’s about what
I
want.

“I want all the things I love in life to be safe. Because if they’re not,
I
lose them. It hurts
me.
I was angry at Bellusdeo for trying to fight while wounded because
I
don’t want to lose her. Which is, again, about me. About what I need. I don’t have the weight of a race behind my needs. I get that. But—this is still about
you,
not her.

“And some of it—some of it honestly has to be about
her.
Not about the fact that she can bear babies—or eggs, I’m not so clear on how that all works—but about what she can give, what she needs, and what she wants. Look—you’re both Immortal. You have all the time in the world.”

“We do not have that time if she dies. Twice now—that I know of—she has come close.” He exhaled. There was no smoke in it. To Kaylin’s shock, he began to pace. “You are right. I do not know very much about her life. She will not speak of it, with me. The only member of the Court she is willing to speak with at all is the Arkon.”

“That’s because the Arkon sees her. He’s not interested in what she can—and must—give. He’s worried about her,” she added.

At that, the Emperor’s brows folded. “He is.”

“...He’s worried about you.”

“I advise, in future, that you think with your mouth closed.” He paced the length of the room. Kaylin was surprised he didn’t leave scorch marks in the carpets. “I was asked to come here,” he admitted, his back turned to Kaylin, “because the Arkon felt that
you
might have insight that the Dragon Court currently lacks.” He spun on his heel. “The rules that might once have governed courtship among our kind don’t apply to Bellusdeo. She will not speak with me. I have tried—but all our discussions end in flame and fury. Diarmat resents the leeway she is already given, and he is my right hand at Court. How much must I compromise the stability of the hierarchy I have built to make her comfortable enough that she will not leave us?” He turned again. “I do not understand my own reactions, in this. I do not understand why she sees them as insults.